Princess Uryuu
by seiano
Summary: A princess’ duty is to serve her country humbly, without showing regret, pain or fear. It's the mask they put on. Ishida and Orihime are forcefully paired up for an English project. Little do they know that these pieces of literature are but mirrors...
1. English Project

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any part of Bleach. We'll leave that to Kubo Tito. I don't own any of the short stories, literary works or video games named below either, save the English "textbook" and the "book" _Fairy Tales and Myths Around the World_.

Rating: T (for later chapters)

Pairing(s): Ishida x Orihime, Ichigo x Rukia (hint), Renji x Tatsuki (hint)  
Spoilers: none (if there are, notify me…)

**Princess Uryuu**

**By: Seiano**

- Chapter One: English Project -

_I only fight to protect, even if the face I wear says otherwise. That is my job, the job of a princess._

"'A woman is the cornerstone of the household, she is the neck of the family. That is the twenty-first century view of women. However, in the 1920s…' " The monotonous English teacher droned on.

Orihime was looking out at the window once more. Her eyes met the clear azure sky dotted with wisps of clouds. The birds flitted from tree to tree in the courtyard near her classroom. She sighed. Indeed, today was a beautiful day. All was almost wonderful. First of all, she had just created a new concoction of red bean paste, salsa and rice and was absolutely dying to try it out, and she wouldn't mind if Tatsuki and Kuchiki-san would "just-so-happen" to experiment along side her. After that, class rankings were posted and she did beautifully, perhaps not as well as Ishida but good enough in her book. To top it all off, she managed to finish her second project for the sewing club without the help of Ishida. She turned her head around to face her orange haired crush, none other than Kurosaki Ichigo, who was engaged in a wordless argument with his beloved Kuchiki-san. Yes, everything would be perfect if only Kurosaki-kun would join her, if he would only see her, if he would only take notice of her. _If only he would take his eyes off Kuchiki-san,_ Orihime added, with a slight hint of jealousy. She shook her head at the thought. _Bad thoughts, bad thoughts._

"Inoue," the voice of the teacher called.

"Eh?" the large busted girl asked, completely oblivious to her predicament as she stood up.

"_Mmh, eto_, girls are very important and, _ano_, they have greatly influenced the history of Japan!" she answered squeakily. The teacher held her head in her hands. This was the tenth time today that this girl had phased out of her classroom. The class burst into laughter. Orihime joined them in a nervous laugh as she slipped back into her seat and sunk into her chair. As the laughter died down, Orihime hid her blushing face in the pages of her textbook until she heard someone.

"We were reading about women and their influence on literature in America, Inoue, not Japan," she heard a familiar voice whisper. "You know…"She turned around to face her benefactor.

"Ishida, please read the text," the teacher called. Her benefactor stood up.

"And so, stories like _The Wallpaper_ were written in subtle opposition to constraints placed on American women of their day. It was short stories like these that changed the world and revolutionized people's thinking. They were fictional pieces that changed the world," he read, in a confident voice.

"Thank you, Ishida," the middle aged teacher spoke, with a smile as she threw a glare at Orihime. "Now class, now that we have finished our unit on American short stories, we will do a large project that will encompass the past two units of English literature: Shakespeare and Fairy Tales."

The class groaned in unison. Ishida sat down in his seat, proceeded to close his textbook and join his fellow classmates in their protest. _Didn't we already have a project like this last week?_ He thought as he used his index finger to adjust his spectacles. As he did so, he caught a glance at the teacher's face. He thought he saw a shadow of a smirk.

"Come now, class," she began again, after the noise had died down momentarily. "This project is going to be a combination of your speaking and writing skills." She paused to smile at the class. "This project will incorporate a writing of a play. To make this more interesting, the play must be in English and will be performed in front of a panel of judges for a certain something."

This only magnified the incessant groans pouring forth from the students. The Quincy's expression was completely blank, but, frankly, he was not thrilled by this one little add-on. Contrary to common beliefs, he was not a nerd and certainly did not enjoy going to school. No, absolutely not. Instead he resented every bit of work he had to. In fact, the only reason he had chosen to receive higher education than the nationally mandated amount was due to his Quincy pride. After all, his father was a doctor. Ishida remained silent, wondering what other surprises lurked in the details of this English project.

"I will now announce the partners that I have already chosen," the English teacher stated, with a hint of joy in her voice as the students slumped in defeat in their seats. "Renji and Tatsuki."

_I wonder how that will work out._ Ishida thought carelessly as he took out his own book and began to read as the two hotheaded classmates exchanged quick glances and looked away.

_Aww, I kinda wanted to be with Tatsuki._ Orihime thought with regret, but her thoughts quickly brightened. _But then again, that means I still have a chance to be partnered up with Kurosaki-kun! _

"Hitsugaya and Rangiku."

The white haired tensai let his icy blue gaze fall on his indolent large busted vice-captain. She smirked at him and leaned over so that her chest was in full view in the large opening of her uniform. Keigo swooned in blood loss, as did many other male classmates. The young captain stared at her contemptuously before turning around.

_No comment._ Ishida thought as he turned the page in his book.

_Rangiku-san… and…Hitsugaya-taichou? _Orihime wondered.

"Kurosaki and Kuchiki."

_Expected._ Ishida pushed his glasses up higher on his delicate face. _Inoue will not be happy with this. That is a decided fact._ He put his hand-sized book to look at the auburn haired girl he had mentioned. _If only she would she past it._

Orihime shifted in her sheet, in obvious discomfort. _Again? _She quietly wept in her mind. _Why can't I get near him? Why can't I get my chance?_ She looked up to see her orange haired friend sitting at his desk, glaring daggers at that conniving adopted spirit noble. _Why does she keep stealing everything dear to me?_

"Ishida and Inoue."

Time seemed to stand still. _Inoue?_ The Quincy swallowed slightly, doubting what he had just heard. He twisted around in his seat to see the blessed princess of womanhood, meeting her wide eyes of surprise. He sensed that she thought the same as he did. Suddenly, the auburn princess stood up to address her teacher.

"_Ano_, Kirahara-sensei," she stuttered as her eyes darted to and fro.

"_Nanda_, Orihime," the teacher replied, trying to conceal her irritation.

"May I change partners?" Orihime blurted out, with all her pent up confidence.

"Inoue, I hand picked these partners. You will work with Ishida," the teacher answered sternly, sending the girl back into the comforts of her seat of embarrassment.

The Quincy descendant eyed the dejected princess from his seat. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly before he returned to his book. The title read _Fairy Tales and Myths of the World._

…

The harsh clang of the ringing bell shattered the silence of the classroom as they filed out from class. School had ended. As the crowds of high school students poured from the academy gates, the freshman class paired off in twos as they went along. No, it was not Valentine's Day. Actually, it was quite the opposite. The English teacher had assigned five pieces of literature, each requiring a three paged typed English essay concerning the literary elements of the piece and a hand written Japanese essay explaining the history of each piece. It didn't take an atomic physicist to recognize that this project was overwhelming, even though she gave them month to finish it.

Ishida strode out of the school doors alone. Through the entire day, he had not approached Orihime, concerning the project or as a friend in general. It was not that it had slipped his mind; rather, he could not help but to think of her request in English today. _May I change partners?_ His eyebrows knitted together in a frustrated manner. Was he that pitiful? He hoped not. As he pondered this, he saw the auburn beauty walking in front of him, unconsciously swaying her hips in her strut across the school.

"Inoue!" Ishida called, in a light voice, hoping to grab her attention. Orihime swung around, smiling, but when she saw the Quincy, her demeanor shifted into a set frown. She tried to conceal it when she noticed her action, but it was too late.

"Inoue, I was wondering when we could work on our English project," Ishida asked, warily.

"_Eto_, I don't really know. I, umm, have, uh, cooking lessons… Fri-day," she stuttered, staring at her feet in defeat. "Yea, Friday. Yea, see you, Ishida-kun!"

Ishida frowned. He knew what her smile was for and he knew why it faded. _Why can't you look past him?_

…

The sound of light footsteps filled the hallway of the apartment building. A slender hand reached into her bag to pull out a set of keys adorned with a small onigiri-cartoon keychain. The metal clinked and tinkled as she slipped them into the lock and turned. The door swung open, to the silence of nothingness. Without much thought, her feet carried her before the small home-altar consisting of a simple table with a single picture on it.

"Okairi, nii-san," a feminine voice said, with feigned cheerfulness. Her head fell slightly.

"Nii-san, I had a horrible day at school today," she began after a pause. "Do you remember that orange haired shinigami that saved you? Well, you know how I like him, right?"

She shifted slightly on her knees so that she sat with her legs under her body.

"So, my English teacher gave us partners for another of her huge projects. And guess what? He got paired up with Kuchiki-san."

Hands shook the edge of the table as she leaned up.

"Why can't I be with him? The fantasy keeps running in my brain and we are perfect! Why can't it be reality?"

Crystal rivers of self-pity and hatred ran down her face.

"Why is Kuchiki-san so perfect? She shadows the rest of us. She is like a princess of glory and I am the dirt beneath her feet."

She drew her knees up to face and bowed her face.

"I guess it's better for Kurosaki-kun to be with her. I hope he's happy."

She fell silent. _But I can't help asking why he and I can't be together. Why can't he notice me?_

…

Pale deft hands danced with the small needle and cloth they held. Within seconds, the knot was tied and completed the union of the two pieces of silk. The excess was cut off and placed in a box. Pale hands held up the completed design, which was then placed on the desk, to be forgotten for their beauty, forgotten for what they were supposed to be.

The spectacles upon his face glinted in the bright desk lamp as his eyes averted to the open textbook and then to the small black Panasonic cordless phone on the nightstand next to the bed. He walked over to hold the small electronic device in his hand. The screen alighted with a fluorescent white and a rainbow of color arranged in a peculiar design akin to that of the _Final Fantasy X_ symbol. _Beep, beep._ Suddenly, small black numbers replaced the symbol as the slender fingers tapped the buttons on the phone's jet-black plastic surface.

The ringing sound of the dialing tone pulsed in his ear. _Ring, ring, ring. _In the middle of the fifth pulse, his finger hit the button under the red figure on the screen. _Call Ended, _the screen read. He placed the small device in its previous resting place. Turning around, he gracefully leaned over to his desk. His desk lamp shut off and his computer slowly came to a whirr of the fan and then fell silent.

He now faced his bed. He loosened the tie around his neck quickly and hung it on the back of his desk chair. Within the next moments, he shed himself of the recollections of school, shrugging off his shirt and then his trousers, quickly folding them into neat squares as he entered the bathroom adjoining his bedroom.

He took a quick shower, letting the dirt of the day and the memories wash away with the soap and the water drenching his hair and on his pale body. He let them wash away, and swirl down the drain to the ocean. He would find them the next day. They always came back.

Stepping out of the shower, he whipped a soft white towel from the side, wiped himself dry and threw on underwear and a loose pair of pajamas to cover over that pale body, that shapely body that was sickly in his own mind. He brushed his teeth rapidly, leaving them "pearly white" and "shining" and what a cliché façade it was.

Slipping under the covers he placed his spectacles and his mask on the nightstand. Here he put on his masquerade of thoughts over the fear of the next day. _I will try tomorrow._

He donned the mask of sleep.

…

_tsuzuku_

AN: Hope you like it so far. Please R&R! Suggestions are welcome (and greatly appreciated).


	2. The Scarlet Ibis

Disclaimer: I don't Bleach or any of the literary works (aka short stories, plays, novels) mentioned. However all the essays and poems and the short story "Bridges of Tears" are mine.

Rating: T (for later chapters)

Pairing(s): IshidaxOrihime, hint: IchigoXRukia, RenjiXTatsuki

Spoiler(s): None

**Princess Uryuu**

**By: Seiano**

-Chapter 2: "The Scarlet Ibis"-

The glory of the sunlight streamed between the thick curtains of the room, alighting the dim corners with echoes of her angelic voice. The curtains hung, however, in a feeble attempt to shut out this light, trying to hold the room captive to its warm darkness. The wind was stifled as it reached this room, silenced by the whispers of the shadows. _Darkness is not fear or chaos. Darkness is comfort. It chases fears away. _

Suddenly, the biting metallic call of the alarm clock shattered the pall of the room, breaking darkness' haven of consoling silence. A groan was elicited from the form under the velvety blue covers on the bed. The sheets shifted as the form tossed, turned and writhed, struggling to sink back into the depths of the blackness of thought and mind. However, the seas of blankets hissed and refused its owner's request. Instead, they were taut, binding their owner on the surface of the bed, prisoner to reality. Realizing this, the form stopped short, facing the ceiling.

Darkened orbs of blue sapphire looked up, only to meet the barricade, that opaque barricade, that kept him from seeing the sky. A smirk formed on his pale features. He was acting like Eros from "Bridges of Tears", helpless and fearful, whose only comfort was to stare up at what contained and imprisoned her. But he could do more than look up at that wall. He would do more than look up at that wall.

At that, he averted his eyes from the confinement above. As he did so, tension left his body and the binds of the sheets gave way, slipping away with great ease. With that, he took his glasses from the nightstand next to him. They were his looking glass of life. _Perhaps today will be different. Perhaps today, my masks will fade away. Perhaps today this burden shall be lifted from my shoulders._

Stumbling into the bathroom, he picked up his toothbrush and began the tedious work of brushing his teeth. He brushed his teeth rapidly, leaving them "pearly white" and "shining" and what a cliché façade it was. He frowned in the mirror. It had begun again.

Taking the comb next to the sink, he ran the teeth of the comb through his silky raven hair, sorting each strand into their exact calculated places. His hair was perfect, not a strand out of formation. He frowned again.

Taking the neatly folded uniform from his closet, he donned the memories of yesterday as he buttoned his starched white uniform shirt and threw on his navy blue trousers. Tossing a few papers into his school bag, he strolled out of his room, donning the alibi of the top-ranking student at his school. He was all too used to this. Yes, it was a regular routine that he subconsciously slipped into these multiple modes day in and day out. The thought scared him. It was only seven in the morning and he was already drowning in the sea of yesterday's despair that would become today's horror.

…

Strands of bright auburn hair floated behind the girl as she walked slowly in the late spring morning breeze. Today was a beautiful day, just as it had been for the past couple days. Normally, such weather would induce a joyful state of mind in most; however, her gait did not hold the same tune or happiness that it usually held on days like these. Her face was a bright peachy color that portrayed joy yet her eyes were clouded in dark storms of rain, but no one really seemed to notice at all.

"_Ohiyo, Inoue_!" Matsumoto called from beside her captain and their adoring fans of little girls and high school boys.

"_Ohiyo, Matsumoto-san!_" the girl replied, with a small smile on her face.

"What's wrong, Inoue?" her companion asked as she shoved her way through the crowd of fans.

"Eh? Something wrong? There's nothing wrong! Do I look like something is wrong with me?" Orihime questioned frantically. The shinigami vice captain cocked her head at the jumpy girl beside her, sighed and walked away with her hands raised in defeat.

Orihime looked down at her shoes. She wasn't that noticeable was she? She shook the thought from her head and painted a small smile on her face to avoid any other inquiries. She looked up again with her mask, and as she did so, she saw none other than Kurosaki Ichigo walking around the corner.

"_Ohiyo, _Kurosaki-kun!" she began to say, walking over to her friend when a raven-haired petite form emerged next to him.

"Oi, Inoue," the tall orange haired male greeted.

"Ohiyo, Inoue-san," the small girl next to Ichigo greeted with a saccharine voice. Inoue forced a grin and turned when her two friends began to strike up a conversation of their own. Her mask immediately shattered and she ran into the classroom, hoping her legs would carry her fast enough so that none off the crumbling pieces of her masquerade would be lost.

…

He was the first to enter the classroom and the last one to leave it. That was the job of the class representative. It suited him well. After all, this was the only time he could take of part of his mask in school. He sighed as he flipped the page in his small book.

Suddenly, footsteps broke in the hallway, and a soft clatter of shoes began to crescendo as the running student neared the empty classroom he was in. _Probably a broken lover in tears. She will probably pass by this classroom._ He thought as he turned back to his book placed delicately between his fingers. As the door was swung open in a dramatic motion, an unexpected burst of wind hit his back. A thunder of a slamming oak door closely followed. He turned around to face his new visitor. His eyes widened at the sight.

"Inoue?" he asked, in disbelief. _Who did this to her? What happened? _The figure did not reply. She did not cry, she did not weep. She just sat there, looking at her hands in despair, like a child looking at a broken vase.

"_Dijoubu_?" he inquired again. A silence of vanity covered the two figures in the classroom. The girl looked up at him.

"Ishida-kun?" she whispered, slightly horrified that there was someone in the room and frustrated that she could not repair her façade in time for this situation. _Why did he have to be here? Why?_

Ishida cringed at the tone of her voice. He stood up and looked at her. His pride was hurt.

"Let me leave you alone to your thoughts," Ishida stated quietly as he opened the classroom door and exited. _Why can't you see past him? He's like veil on your beauty._

…

The sky was lit a fire by the ruby of the setting sun. The clouds looked like small puffs of smoke against the blazing sky. His glasses reflected the sky, perfect mirrors of it all. He put his hand on the window. He wished he could capture that bleeding sun in his hand as he could through the window. Then, perhaps, the depths of these oceans could be given light. Perhaps, but alas, he knew that was out of his grasp.

He turned around to face his desk again to look down at the neatly scribbled math problems on his notebook. The variables and symbols were a whirl in his head. They were just like life, so many variables. Each part of life had its own path that curved across the calculated imaginary-reality graph called destiny. However, there was only one point, one answer, one complex number that would work for all these various lines, if they ever met. He sighed. He was still searching for his point, as odd as it sounded.

All of a sudden, the bright, trill notes of _Aesthetics and Identity_ sliced through the stale air. He turned around in the plush rotating desk chair to face the dancing sleek black Panasonic cordless phone on its stand. It vibrated, causing a small hum of machinery to accompany each shrill note of the ring tone. The screen flashed bright colors. _Incoming Call from Inoue,_ the neat digital letters read. He stood up, and walked over to the nightstand and brought his hand up so that it was even with the device. His pale hand slowly approached the phone, as if in hesitation. Without further thought, a pale finger pressed the small button under the words "accept."

"Moshi, moshi?? Ishida desu," the male breathed into the phone.

"_Ano, _Ishida-kun?" a high-pitched feminine voice asked. "This is Inoue."

"Oh, hi, Inoue," Ishida replied, trying to add a scent of surprise in his voice.

"_Gomene_," the voice on the phone continued. "I was really tired today and yea. Hope you'll forgive me."

"Oh, it was nothing. Everyone has their days," the Quincy said, in a light voice. "If that was your reason in calling, everything's fine."

"Well, I also called for the project," Orihime continued. "I have, _eto_, classes every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday for, _ano_, baking and stuff. Yea, so I was wondering if we could split up the project so that we can work on parts individually."

"Sure, no problem," Ishida assured. "Whatever is best for you." _The fibers of fabricated excuses unravel before my eyes, Inoue. I am the master of tapestry. _

"In that case, can you start working on the short story "The Scarlet Ibis"?" Orihime asked in a small voice.

"No problem," came the cool reply.

"Then, I'll see you tomorrow then," Inoue stated.

"_Ja ne_," he quickly followed and then the line was dead.

Ishida rotated his lithe body so that his eyes rested on the desk before him. He closed his calculus B/C notebook and placed it on the side of his desk. Here he opened his massive English textbook and flipped to the short story section. He fingered the pages until he reached the page with the heading "The Scarlet Ibis". The page was covered in scarlet flamed rubies of the bleeding ibis. Under the introduction picture was a single quote from Hurst's short story:

"_I did not know then that pride is a wonderful, terrible thing, a seed that bears two vines, life and death._"

He began to read.

…

The light drumming of the rain echoed in the hollow room, resonating off the meticulously filed objects. No sound was heard above the soft song of the crying sky. The glowing gray of the sky was engulfed in the long dark shadows cast across the room. Each of the winding darkness pooled at the feet of a lithe male, sitting on a navy blue chair. His cobalt eyes were trained on the page of his massive textbook, marked with English letters. His pale hands fingered the corners of the pages, in deep concentration.

"_At that moment the bird began to flutter, but the wings were uncoordinated, and amid much flapping and a spray of flying feathers, it tumbled down, bumping through the limbs of the bleeding tree and landing at our feet with a thud. Its long, graceful neck jerked twice into an S, then straightened out, and the bird was still. A white veil came over the eyes, and the long white beak unhinged. Its legs were crossed and its clawlike feet were delicately curved at rest. Even death did not mar its grace, for it lay on the earth like a broken case of red flowers, and we stood around it, awed by its exotic beauty._

'_It's dead,' Mama said. _

'_What is it?' Doodle repeated._

'_Go bring me the bird book,' said Daddy._

_I ran into the house and brought back the bird book. As we watched, Daddy thumbed through its pages. 'It's a scarlet ibis,' he said, pointing to a picture…"_

The page turned as the mesmerized individual sat, intently reading. _…_

"_Doodle was both tired and frightened, and when he stepped from the skiff he collapsed onto the mud, sending an armada of fiddler crabs rustling off into the marsh grass. I helped him up, and as he wiped the mud off his trousers, he smiled at me ashamedly. He had failed and we both knew it, so we started back home, racing the storm. We never spoke (what are the words that can solder cracked pride?), but I knew he was watching me, watching for a sign of mercy. The lightning was near now, and from fear he walked so lose behind me he kept stepping on my heels. The faster I walked, the faster he walked, so I began to run. The rain was coming, roaring through the pines, and then, like a bursting Roman candle, a gum tree ahead of us was shattered by a bolt of lightning. When the deafening peal of thunder had died, and in the moment before the rain arrived, I heard Doodle, who had fallen behind, cry out, 'Brother, Brother, don't leave me! Don't leave me!' _

_The knowledge that Doodle's and my plans had come to naught was bitter, and that streak of cruelty within me awakened. I ran as fast as I could, leaving him far behind with a wall of rain dividing us. The drops stung my face like nettles, and the wind flared the wet, glistening leaves of the bordering tress. Soon I could hear his voice no more."_

The rain slowed a bit, as if in anticipation.

"_I hadn't run too far before I became tired, and the flood of childish spite evanesced as well. I stopped and waited for Doodle. The sound of the rain was everywhere, but the wind had died and it fell straight down in parallel paths like ropes hanging from the sky. As I waited, I peered through the downpour, but no one came. Finally, I went back and found him huddled beneath a red nightshade bush beside the road. He was sitting on the ground, his face buried in his arms, which were resting on his drawn-up knees. 'Let's go, Doodle,' I said. _

_He didn't' answer, so I placed my hand on his forehead and lifted his head. Limply, he fell backward on to the earth. He had been bleeding from the mouth, and his neck and the front of his shirt were stained a brilliant red._

'_Doodle! Doodle!" I cried, shaking him, but there was no answer but the ropy rain. He lay very awkwardly, with his head thrown far back, making his vermilion neck appear unusually long a slim. His little legs, bent sharply at the knees, had never before seemed so fragile, so thin._

_I began to weep, and the tear-blurred vision in red before me looked very familiar. 'Doodle!' I screamed above the pounding storm, and threw my body to the earth above him. For a long, long time, it seemed forever, I lay there crying, sheltering my fallen scarlet ibis from the heresy of the rain."_

The book closed and the rain began to pound harder on the windows, leaving the ringing sound of drums. And mingled with the wails of the weeping sky was the ragged breathing of a heaving chest. The desk was sprinkled with small droplets of water from the overflowing cobalt.

"_I lay there crying, sheltering my fallen scarlet ibis from the heresy of the rain"… my scarlet ibis killed by my pride, my Quincy pride._

…

_tsuzuku_

AN: I hope you liked this chapter. It took some time to write because I had a loss of ideas in the middle (I know, it's kinda hard to believe, especially since I've only written two chapters so far).

Thank you to:

The Cheshire Katt NobleAngel015 

**Winterflower**

**deepened heart**

for commenting! Your comments encouraged me. They're probably what drove me to update (it's annoying when no one comments and you have no idea if you should write or not… don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining ").

Please RxR!

Literature cited:

I hope this is okay. I have no idea how to write these so I combined a couple types. Feel free to correct me.

Hurst, James. "The Scarlet Ibis." _Elements of Literature: Third Course._ Ed. John Legget, et al. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston: A Harcourt Education Company, 2003. 314-323.


	3. pride bears two vines

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach (it's number one on my wish list though). I do not own any of the other literary works referred to in this story (save the essays and "Bridge of Tears").

Author's Note: My apologies for not updating for such a long time. All I have to say are exams, papers, and teachers that conspire together to torment their students.

Rating: T (for later chapters)

Pairing(s): IshidaxOrihime, hint: IchigoXRukia, RenjiXTatsuki

Spoiler(s): pre-soul society and soul society arcs

**Princess Uryuu**

**By: Seiano**

- Chapter 3: "…pride bears two vines…" -

_The sun was high in the sky, letting her golden raindrops lavish the earth with warmth and beauty. Her golden fingertips were met by the whispering of the wind. They silently conversed as they guarded the sleeping earth. Suddenly, two shrill cries shattered the delicate slumber._

"_Hurry up!" a young boy yelled as he ran down the hill in glee. "The bus is going to leave soon!" His arms were spread out wide, as if the wind were to lift him into flight. As he neared the bottom, he canter faltered and he tumbled onto the lush fields of emerald._

"Matte_!" a higher voice cried from above him. He looked up to see a young girl in a plaid sundress. Her fiery hair swayed in the wind as she cautiously made her way down the hill. _

"_You're so slow," the male retorted, watching the girl tumble off the rock he had tripped on, landing next to him. The female's face contorted into a frown and tears shined on the corners of her eyes. _

"_You're bleeding," the boy noted matter-of-factly. The girl nodded sheepishly, using the back of her hands to keep away the tears. They looked at each other for a moment and broke into a tinkering laughter. After a minute, they paused. _

"_I don't think I'll be able to walk on this," the girl stated, seriously as she stifled the giggles from before. He looked at her with worry but the girl looked away. The girl gazed up at the sky in wonder as the boy looked across the field._

"_There's no one here yet…" he began as he shielded his eyes from the glory of the sun until his vision encompassed familiar human like figures in their vicinity._

"_Oi!" the boy cried out, waving his hands frantically at his acquaintances, which returned his gesture._

"_Hurry, the bus is going to leave!" the figures replied with a faint shout. The boy's face set aglow. The young girl beside him tugged at his sleeve._

"_Don't go with them," she pleaded softly. "I can't walk anymore."_

"_But we have to get on the bus," the young male child reasoned. "This is a once in a lifetime chance."_

"_Don't go," the girl only whispered. "Don't leave me."_

_The boy looked at the girl and then at the waving figures on the horizon. He then took his hand and brushed the girl's pale fingers off him and took after the group on the other side of the field. The girl pushed up off the ground only to stumble and crumple to the ground in defeat and in tears. _

_The wails reached the boy's ears and he turned around in disbelief. Each cry shook and quenched his heart and slowly. He felt a pulsating pain throbbing in his head and fell into an abyss of darkness that engulfed his mind with the rain beating around him._

"I did not know then that pride is a wonderful, terrible thing, a seed that bears two vines, life and death."

…

Cobalt oceans flung open to meet the black silence that filled the room. Soft hues of the streetlamp lights filtered through the translucent material falling over the window. A cough shattered the silence as the male lifted his head from its uncomfortable position on his makeshift pillow of a textbook. He lazily ran a hand through his dark hair before allowing his pale fingers to adjust his spectacles. He turned his head to look at the softly glowing light of the digital clock.

_2:30 AM. Tuesday, September 18, 2007._

A small sigh escaped from between the carved snowy lips. He quickly allowed his deft hands to remove the textbook from his desk and placed it in the book bag next to his desk. Quietly, he lifted his form from the plush desk chair and proceeded to the bathroom connecting to his room. Within seconds, he shed himself of the wretched starched "cloth" that was given the name of a school uniform. Stepping into the shower, he turned the small silver knob, allowing the crystal droplets drench him in a downpour of steaming rain. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the pattering water around him fade to darkness.

…

Ishida looked at his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. Some would say he was paranoid, others would comment on how punctual he was, but in reality he was everything but those two. He gently allowed his back to casually lean against the telephone pole he was standing next to. It was Tuesday and Orihime and he had agreed to go to school early to discuss their English project. Currently, it was 7:30 AM. Orihime was a decided half an hour late. Ishida sighed as he lifted his head to let the morning rays grace his pale skin. As he did so, obscure strands of black hair fell above his eyes.

"_Don't leave me."_

From his small point on Earth, the sun looked so far away. _Well,_ Ishida corrected himself, _it truly is far away. Millions and billions of astronomical units and light years away._ He stopped in mid-thought. The sun was a glittering jewel hung in a discreet sky of cobalt tears. How far away it was. Ishida extended his arm towards the sky and placed the hand in the area the sun occupied his vision. He cupped his hand. But here, the jewel was so close, in the palm of a hand. Yet what mockery, what scorn that such images should never come true.

"Ishida-kun!" a shrill voice shattered the thin glass of silence that enveloped the young Quincy. Whether it was for better or for worse was yet to be decided.

"Ohiyo, Inoue," the speckled boy answered with a pall of indifference. His icy yet warm features set, unchanging, as if carved in stone. Orihime breathed hard as she stopped short before her companion.

"Gomene, Ishida-kun. The rice I was trying to cook burned and then the red bean paste that I was microwaving exploded and then there was the curry that over boiled and spilled everywhere and, _eto_," the auburn haired princess began to explain.

"Daijoubuka, Inoue. I didn't wait for a long time," Ishida replied, attempting to keep the girl from overexcitement with a simple excuse. After all, she did not know him beyond the cross, bow, arrow and glasses.

Orihime sighed in relief as Ishida turned around to pick up his school bag, but was caught short as he turned around to motion for her to come along. Orihime nodded ever so slightly as she followed behind him, allowing a good three strides space between them as they made their way down to the school gates on the east wing of the building.

…

Ishida flicked on the lights as they entered the school's mockery of a library: a room with thirty shelves of books that were hardly touched and mostly useless artifacts that served no purpose other than to collect dust and appeal to the aesthetic senses. If there was any use of this so-called library, it was the computers and the vast desks and tables that flocked the room.

The library was completely empty; the librarian had not even step foot in the room this morning. Ishida smiled. _The privileges of being class representative_. He strode over to one of the large tables that sported comfortable looking chairs around it. He turned around to see Orihime peering around with round eyes, whether it was of fear or amazement was not a point of concern at this point in time.

"Inoue, sit," Ishida said as he motioned to the chair across from him. The princess turned around in surprise to face her friend. She nodded nervously as she walked over to the table. Smoothing her skirt out, she sat neatly in the plush chair and watched Ishida set the table with textbooks, books and papers.

"So, Inoue, how much have you done?" Ishida asked quietly, sensing her unease.

"_Eto_, I read through _The Scarlet Ibis_ and…" She paused for a moment, "and took some notes…" She quickly brought up her bag and riffled through multiple unruly and bent papers that exploded from her purse. After five minutes of fruitless searching, she stopped to look up at Ishida. "…but I can't seem to find them right now. Yea, and I think that was it. Gomene, I was busy this week."

"That's okay," Ishida replied without much of emotion. "Here's what I did."

He handed the auburn haired girl a stapled packet of typed and handwritten papers.

"Those include some notes, criticisms and other stuff I found. I also took the initiative to research a little on the history of the author and some of the major critics of this story."

Orihime's eyes widened at the information. _Is he expecting me to actually look through this? This weighs a ton!_

"Now I feel guilty for not doing anything, gomenasai, Ishida-kun," Inoue stated with a tinge of remorse and bowed her head, hitting her forehead on the wooden top of the table. _Ow._

"Daijoubu, Inoue, I just had some time this week," Ishida answered with a nervous smile as Orihime picked up her head to nurse her self-inflicted wound. "Besides, now we can discuss we can do with this short story." _Please stop. One – you are giving me a sense of guilt. Two – please stop before I lose my calm temperament because you did not do anything. I know why you did not do anything. Do not take me for a fool._

"_Ano_ Kirihara-sensei said that we had to write a creative piece and an essay for at least one short story," Orihime spoke as her continued to rub her forehead. "I guess we can do it for this piece since you already did so much work. I don't want all your hard work to go to waste, Ishida-kun." _Yup, you did more work so less for me to do on this and less for us to discuss, right? I don't want to be here with YOU._

Ishida smiled at her comment. _Please stop with your façade. I can see right through it. He is veiling your eyes._

"Then let's talk about what we can use in our essay," the dark haired boy began as he fixed his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. "We should probably talk about a theme or something of the consort."

"True," Orihime answered. "Oh, how about pride? It's the easiest thing. We can use the fact that the narrator's pride brought about the death of his brother Doodle. And our second example would be… _eto._"

Silence filled the air for about five minutes as the two students pondered over this question.

"I got it… wait never mind," Orihime exclaimed out of the blue.

"How about Doodle's pride in his brother?" Ishida answered after a while, grimacing slightly as he said it.

"Huh? How does that work, Ishida-kun?"

At that moment, the bell for first class rang and Ishida began to pack up his books.

"I shall explain to you some other time," he replied. "For now, I guess I'll write the paper."

…

The rain beat upon the windows and the wind magnified her mourning voice with howls. Midnight oceans were concealed behind pale clouds. They shifted as their master tossed around in the sea of crumpled sheets in a fitful sleep. Chin length raven locks lay soaked by the invisible burden of rain. His lips moved, uttering incomprehensible words as the features of his face contorted with pain. One things crossed those tortured lips:

"Don't leave me."

…

"_Brother, brother, don't leave me! Don't leave me!" _

_My shrill childish voice rang out into the emptiness, crying after the fleeing image of my brother's back. The outline of my infallible savior shrank into the distance until the figure melded with the vast sea of swaying pines, leaving me in the stinging silence of the soft, heretic applause of the rain. _

"_Don't leave me!" an unknown, gurgled voice rasped from my raw throat as my legs slowed to from the uneven canter to a fast jog, a walk and then to an abrupt stop. "Brother, don't leave me!" _

_My small chest heaved in exasperation, gasping for air. Among the stillness, a deafening pulse tormented my delicate ears as a surging, erratic pain coursed throughout my juvenile form. My mind attempted to reason with my body, urging it to move for the sake of my brother – my perfect brother and his perfect plan. But he had left me, abandoned me to the mockery of the downpour of hell from the mourning skies. My body refused and crumpled neatly. The rain continued to fall, drenching my hair, my body and my heart._

"_Your brother has abandoned you. You are nothing to him," the cold wind howled amongst the pattering of the heavy rainfall, the booming thunder and the speeding pulse in my ears. "You are a failure."_

_All of a sudden, the deafening throb caught in my ears as the pain seemed to subside at harshness of the thought. Had I failed my brother? Was that why my brother had left me here to die? It couldn't be. I had lived to please my brother and idol._

"_No," the soft unknown voice sounded again, this time with a slight sob mixed with the gurgle of the warm salty substance that foamed in my mouth and fear. _

_Fear. I had lived in constant fear. However, through the fear, I believed in my brother, my perfect brother. His image overcame my fear; the very words he spoke gave life to my limbs and commanded them to walk. But now he was gone. Gone because, unlike the other times, I failed to please him, my idol. He had left me here to die, die from the fear that was instilled from his absence. _

"_I'm sorry, brother," I cried as the salty liquid that had appeared in my mouth flowed from the corners of my mouth. The scarlet arms of the red nightshade bush I had collapsed next to reached out to comfort me. I pulled my legs close to my heaving chest, disregarding the continuing pain in my body. If I could only see my brother once more to say, "I'm sorry", but, alas, I knew that the time God had allotted for me was almost over. Rivers of tears mingled with the harsh rain as they ran down the soft, pale curves of my features at the thought. _

_Roses of red clouded my vision as the sting of the piercing rain and movement melted away into numbness. The sounds of my surroundings faded into an eternal silence that likened to the peace my brother held for me. And among the fading clamor of the world that existed to mock me, I heard that beautiful voice._

"_Doodle, doodle, don't leave me." _

Blue cobalt eyes flung open and light was streaming in from the window.

…

The boy sat in front of the brightly lit LCD computer monitor that evening. Accompanying the small keyboard on the tabletop were textbooks and scattered papers. _An essay on pride, huh?_ The boy smiled slightly.

The computer monitor currently read:

_In the short story, "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst, the narrator and Doodle both attest that "pride … bears two vines" in their actions concerning one another (318). First of all, the unnamed narrator shows his pride in himself in forcing his brother to accomplish the impossible; this leads his sibling to gain valuable knowledge while annihilating Doodle. Moreover, Doodle places his vanity in his brother, believing him to be infallible; this spurs on his own strength to please his brother, but ultimately guides himself down the path of immolation_. _Thus, these conceited and pride-driven characters work towards the bloody inevitable growth and death that awaits them under the red nightshade bush._

He had molded and crafted this piece for an hour and it was to no avail, he was not finished. He leaned back in the desk chair. Pride: such a topic that was dear to him, yet, today, his mind did not yield any insight. Frustrated, he began to type.

_To begin, the anonymous narrator is filled with arrogance that leads him to kill his brother. _

He paused. There was neither elegance nor honesty in these words. He hit the backspace button for a moment or two before allowing his pale fingers dance across the black keys in an intricate tango once more.

_To begin, the anonymous narrator is filled with a vanity that leads him to destroy one of his own blood, as he encourages his brother to hope and do the unattainable._

Cobalt eyes diverged from their concentration on the bright computer screen to the worn Quincy glove that sat on the pearl white shelf adjacent to the desk.

'_Why don't we have a competition, Kurosaki? I'll make you understand which of us is superior and that shinigami are unnecessary in this world.' (1)_

Such foolish words back then. Words that were a spawn of mislead hatred and the blossom of friendship. Yes, perhaps it was not the unattainable as it was for Doodle but he was the one who encouraged Kurosaki into this competition: one that almost ended both of their lives.

_Spirit energy spewed forth in visible streams from Kurosaki's body, consuming him and leaving him writhing in the pain that he could only feel. Kurosaki had just saved him from a Menos Grande, something that he had begun. Kurosaki had defeated something so advanced with a knowledge so elementary. Yet, now, he could only scream in the burden. (2)_

Yes, words and the competition he had initiated had led to much more.

'_Quincy pride…' he had said to the captain. The thought was so prevalent in his mind as he tore the patterned white and blue glove from him, completing what would be his death. Immediately, his clothes changed into that akin to armor. The surrounding buildings began to crumble into spirit shards that fed the manifesting energy in and around him, giving an ethereal glow of angel's wings. There was nothing more to him. He was going to die to the Quincy with this last shot to savor the Quincy pride that he had sworn to his grandfather. (3) _

Quincy pride bore vines of life and death. They were so closely entwined with one another that they were inseparable, so close that the truths and lies became blurred in one great gray. A grim smile marked his pale face as he returned to the forgotten task ahead of him.

In the end, it took a death for the narrator to realize his pride, but Kurosaki and ojiisan did that before he broke. Perhaps he could save another before her prideful love shattered her to pieces. The tapping of keys resounded through the evening.

…

_The boy wandered in the darkness in which he had sunk. Suddenly a rope ladder appeared before him. _

'_Oi, climb up!' an annoying voice yelled down to him. The boy looked up, allowing blue to meet amber, black to view orange. The boy above smiled and held out a hand to him._

_Suddenly, the boy stood in front of the crying girl he had left before. He smiled and held out his hand. _

'_I'm not going anywhere without you.'_

…

_tsuzuku_

AN: Sorry for not updating sooner! Thank you for all of you who are reading. I never thought this story could go this far.I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please RxR!

Below are some citations before I really do get sued.

Hurst, James. "The Scarlet Ibis." _Elements of Literature: Third Course._ Ed. John Legget, et al. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston: A Harcourt Education Company, 2003. 314-323.

(1) – Thank you to Lunar Anime subs for this. This is the conversation between Ishida and Ichigo in episode 11. Please excuse me for any mistakes. I was originally going to use the manga translation for this scene but I couldn't find the file so I resorted to the anime.

(2) – This is a summary of what happened after the battle between the Menos Grande and Kurosaki in the anime (episode ?); sorry if its different in the manga; I read that chapter at least two years ago so I really don't remember

(3) – Summary of the episode where Ishida fights the twelfth squad captain

Correct me if any of the details are wrong. I haven't read through these chapters in a very long time. Gomenesai!

Thank you to:

**NobleAngel015**

**shelena**

**Greentea**

**Hiiragi Demon**

**Teh Squee-Chan**

**silver miracles**

**The Cheshire Katt**

**No One**


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